Pieces of Destiny
by Ivory Kiss
Summary: Yori Kihara wasn't aware of how easily forfeit her innocence was to become until everything she once believed in was stripped from her in a rain of bloodshed. With her family gone and her Noble bloodline rendered worthless, Yori was left with little more than the alluring desire to quench her thirst for revenge. She never expected to fall for a man who could put her goals to ruin.
1. Piece One: Bloodshed

**P**_i_e**c**_e_s **o**_f_ D**e**_s_t**i**_n_y

* * *

_**.**_

_**R**_

_**E**_

_**M**_

_**N**_

_**A**_

_**N**_

_**T**_

_**ONE**_

_**.**_

* * *

_Twelve year old Yori Kihara dared not move an inch as she stood completely still behind the dark closet doors that concealed her terrified form. Her watery green eyes locked on the broken image of her mother's legs from between the thin slats in the closet door, unable to tear her eyes away as the tall, scar-faced intruder stalked toward her with his bloodied sword at hand. Yori's mother held her ground as she stood between the man and her daughter, desperate to keep the distance between them permanent, even if she had to die to do so. The man took another step toward her and raised his sword, cold moonlight glinting across its bloodstained surface. Yori clamped her quivering hands over her mouth to conceal the scream that was buried deep inside her. _

_ "Your bravery will only get you killed, Inori. Step aside," ordered the man in a cruel hiss, his scars twisting about his face as he scowled angrily. His unfamiliar voice burned into Yori's memory as soon as the words left his mouth, replaying over and over again inside her head in a sick, never-ending loop._

_ "You've taken _everything_ from me," Inori whispered, misery lacing every word that left her pale lips. "I won't let you have my Yori!" _

_ "Then you will die here." The man calmly raised his sword above Inori's head and brought it down across her front with a sickening slice that Yori wished she didn't hear. Yori's cold body lost all feeling as a strangled whimper escaped her lips, the closest thing to a scream she could manage. She hopelessly sank to her knees as she watched blood cascade down her mother's legs and pour onto the wooden floor, creeping along the cold surface in every direction. Inori fell onto her hands and knees not a second later, coughing and rasping, her blood pooling beneath her in rapid succession. _

"_Run, Yori," she whispered, so quietly that even Yori's highly adept ears barely caught it. Yori's heart pounded within her chest as she watched blood violently erupt from her mother's mouth. Still, she could not move. She could not scream. She could not look away from the sight of her mother falling face-first onto the wooden floor and growing still. She could not cover her ears to prevent herself from listening to her mother's failing heartbeats or her struggling to draw in her final breaths. Yori could not run to her._

_A stream of silver moonlight filtered through one of the slats in the door of the closet and shined onto Yori's ashen face. Her eyes drifted up to the cruel man who had just cut her mother down, unable to do anything but stare up into his cold, black eyes. He roughly shoved Inori's now still body out of his way with the toe of his boot and yanked the closet door open, finally face to face with the one he had been after all along. Yori locked her eyes on his sword, watching as tiny droplets of blood dripped off of the pointed edge and pooled near her feet. As she slowly looked back up at the terrifying face of the man her memory would never allow her to forget, she knew that great pain was soon to follow._

_Yori's bloodcurdling scream cut through the dark silence of the night, forever shattering the calm serenity that once was._

* * *

P_i_**e**c_e_ **O**n_e_

.

.

.

**B**l_o_**o**d_s_**h**e_d_

* * *

**L**_i_g**h**_t_ m**e** _u_p, **I**'_l_l **f**_a_l**l** _i_n, **a**_n_d **t**_h_e**n** _b_e _**g**__**o**__**n**__**e**_…

* * *

The horribly mangled bodies of four Konoha Shinobi lay before the assassin, having fallen victim to the biting blade of her deadly-sharp katana. The dull light that illuminated the abandoned warehouse flickered across their bloodied forehead protectors, casting eerie shadows along the contours of their blank faces. She had thought all were dead, yet the assassin's adept ears pricked as she suddenly detected a faint, erratic heartbeat among the bloody mess she had created. She approached the telltale noise and came to a stop before the only female among the group of Shinobi.

The assassin shoved her flat shoe into the female's side and rolled her bloodied form onto her back. The girl suddenly pitched forward and clutched at her bleeding hole in her chest, struggling to draw in a breath through the blood that surely pooled within her lungs. The assassin stood immobile before the dying girl, caring not that her suffering had gone on longer than it should.

"Kill me!" coughed the Shinobi girl, a thin red line of blood trickling over her cheek. "Please."

The assassin silently knelt down next to the girl and boldly met her eyes, cold green on terrified brown. "Traitors don't deserve mercy."

The assassin's words were followed by silence as the Shinobi's gasping breaths faded out and her struggling heart finally stuttered to a stop. Her wide, unblinking eyes were hazy and blank as they stared up at the ceiling, showing no further sparkle of life within them. Her gruesome wound still poured blood, although the flow was agonizingly slow since her pulse had ceased within her. The assassin grimaced from underneath her thin mask and turned away from all of the lifeless forms that lay scattered about the floor, satisfied that none of them would ever draw breath again.

_They had this coming to them,_ she thought as she shook her faithful sword free of the blood that coated its gleaming edge and returned it to its sheath. _My job here is done._

She carefully stepped toward the only door in the dark warehouse, which she had barred with a heavy, rusted pole upon her entrance, and became intensely aware of a sharp pain coursing through her left thigh. Blood seeped through a long gash in her leg, the only injury her body had sustained that night, and was quickly absorbing into the black fabric of her clothing. The assassin scowled at the sight of the wound but ignored it, resolving to take care of it later. She easily pulled the thick obstruction away from the door, letting it fly open with a sharp clang.

The assassin pushed the pain that permeated through her leg to the back of her mind and fled through the doorway, dashing out into the quiet and deserted streets of Konoha village toward her headquarters. The inky black night enveloped her dark form as she ran, swallowing every trace of her presence. The silver chain around her ankle jangled with each step she took, although the noise was not loud enough for her to worry about being detected. She slowed her pace as she neared the darkest area of the village, just a few feet away from a seemingly abandoned bath house that resided on the corner. The pain was no longer something she could simply ignore and she looked down to discover that she had been leaving bloody footprints behind for some time. Thankfully, the ominous black clouds that loomed above her promised rain, which would surely erase any trace of the blood that her body had annoyingly spilled.

"Well, well. It looks like even _you_ couldn't take on four Konoha Shinobi and come out unscathed, Yori-chan" said an amused voice from the shadows, surely belonging to none other than her lanky partner, who was her senior by five years. Just as she turned in the direction of his voice, his dark, hooded form slipped out from the darkness and stalked toward her with a determined gait. The assassin felt herself give him a half smile as his eyes met hers, even though her facial mask hid it from view. He lowered his hood and pulled down his own thin facial mask, revealing a familiar, smirking face spattered in a significant amount of dried blood.

"You're covered in more blood than usual, Makoto-kun," Yori noted from between clenched teeth as the pain returned to her. She pried herself away from the wall she had leaned against and was suddenly grateful for Makoto's presence as he slung her arm over his shoulder and supported half of her weight. She clasped her gloved hand around his wrist, jostling a silver chain that matched her own.

"Not my blood," he replied with a sinister chuckle. "Although you're one to talk," he looked pointedly at her bloody injury, an amused smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Not a word to Cross-sama," she commanded grimly as they approached the old wooden doors of the abandoned bath house. Makoto pulled his facial mask back up over his nose, but his eyes still betrayed his absolute delight at the thought of Yori performing less than perfectly on a mission.

Makoto pushed the decrepit doors open with his foot, snickering lightly to himself as they entered the dimly lit corridor. The outside of The Black Hand's headquarters did nothing to provoke suspicion from any outsider, as it appeared to be nothing more than a dilapidated bath house that had gone out of business many years prior. Cross, the leader of The Black Hand, had chosen this place as headquarters long before Yori had joined, and had added on many hidden rooms and reinforced the security everywhere. Yori didn't know much about this place, aside from where the traps were located, which was very valuable information unless you were interested in getting your limbs torn from your body.

The two came to a stop before a large metal door, guarded by two heavily muscled men whose faces were completely obscured from view by the full masks they wore. They both had several weapons attached to their belts, some already encrusted with the blood of the unlucky few who crossed their paths. Yori forced herself to look away and didn't dare search for their eyes, knowing that, if provoked, they would hack them both to microscopic pieces and toss them aside like trash. Makoto held his wrist out to show his shiny silver chain to them, his bloodied face blank and emotionless. Yori followed suit and placed her bad leg forward, allowing them sight to the identical chain she wore around her ankle. The two guards stepped aside and the heavy door swung open for them.

Makoto tapped the arm that Yori had woven around his neck and she instantly released him, but remained close to his side as they entered the dark, candle-lit room. Every unassisted step she took sent a pain akin to liquid fire up into her leg. Twenty-eight other black-clad assassins stood motionless in three rows before Cross, who sat in a black chair at the head of the room with two others at his flanks. She did her best to disguise her limping, even though not a single person in the room looked up as they stepped into the only incomplete row. Sweat beaded across Yori's forehead as she realized that everyone else had been waiting for them to arrive. She shared a short look with Makoto and saw in his eyes that he too prayed that the wait was not a long one, for their own sakes.

After a long moment of silence passed throughout the large room, Cross stood at last, his scratched and scarred mask gleaming in the dull light. Everyone in the room kneeled in unison onto one knee with their heads bowed in respect. Yori clamped her eyes shut as her bleeding leg screamed in agony due to the strain of kneeling, yet she dared not move a muscle. She felt Makoto's eyes on her as her entire body quivered and her forehead dampened with cold sweat. Makoto knew his partner was close to passing out from the searing torment she surely suffered, yet there was nothing he could do but hope she remained conscious long enough to get through this.

"Your presence in this room tells me that all of you have successfully carried out your missions," stated Cross in a booming voice that filled every corner of the enormous room.

Every hooded head nodded, but none uttered a single word. Not one member of The Black Hand was enough of a fool to return to headquarters after botching a mission; the punishment would be instantaneous death.

Cross's eyes passed over everyone individually, silently assessing them. Yori's heart raced inside of her chest as she was suddenly filled with blind panic, fearing that her wound would be noticed. Cross had cut down members of The Black Hand for sustaining injuries during a mission, believing that they were weak and would bring disgrace to their name. Yori had never been wounded so badly before during a mission, and she feared that she would soon face Cross's wrath because of it.

"Very well. Dismissed," announced Cross at once. Yori exhaled softly in relief and got to her feet along with the others, determined to get out of the room as quickly as she could.

The other members faded out of the room, either to clean themselves of the blood on their bodies and go on their way, or to find an unoccupied bed somewhere in the old guest rooms and sleep off the memory of their most recent kill. Yori needed to bathe quickly and get her wound taken care of. She couldn't afford to stay there for the night.

"Kihara Yori."

Every fiber in Yori's body froze at the sound of Cross's voice. Her name, addressed by her leader, echoed in her head, injecting a newly ignited fear into her body.

_He knows, _Yori realized in horror. She couldn't bring herself to turn around and face him, even when her very acute hearing picked up the sound of him standing and taking a small, calculated step toward her.

"Yes, Cross-sama?"

"I trust your mission went well?"

Yori swallowed the lump of terror that had lodged itself in her throat. Her clenched fists shook at her sides and she closed her eyes, praying to Kami that he wasn't about to kill her. She silently cursed the Shinobi traitors she fought, hoping they would burn in hell for the rest of eternity. She cursed her stupidity and arrogance for allowing herself to get into this situation in the first place.

"As always, sir," Yori replied carefully, being sure to speak in a low tone so that her shaking voice didn't reveal how terrified she was. Her wounded leg once again began to shake and she leaned to her right, desperate to take as much pressure as possible off of it. Cross's silence was a million times worse than when he spoke and Yori's hair stood on end as she waited there, wondering if he'd even spare her his words at all.

'_Weakness is not tolerated here,'_ Cross had said just before he slit that poor injured boy's throat open when he returned from his botched mission. Was he about to say the same line to her before she suffered a similar fate? Would she even be able to hear it over the sound of her thrashing heartbeat? Yori couldn't stand the thought of dying right then and there. She absolutely had to live, to achieve her most sought after goals, yet she was powerless to stop Cross if he chose to end her life.

"Get that stitched up before you bleed to death all over my floor," Cross ordered in a dangerous tone. "_Don't_ let it happen _again_."

His threat did not go unheard. The small line played in a loop over and over in hear head and Yori knew that she would be hearing it in her nightmares for weeks to come. She nodded stiffly in Cross's direction, suddenly shaky with relief that she was allowed to keep her life, as miserable as it may be, and exhaled the breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. "Understood, sir."

"You may go."

Yori walked as fast as her leg allowed and walked out through the back hall, nearly knocking into Makoto, who had stood there waiting for her. Both his hood and mask here off, revealing a smirking face that she knew all too well.

"It's always nice to see your arrogance squashed to pieces by your utter fear of Cross-sama," he laughed. "You actually resemble a girl when you're scared."

With shaking fingers, Yori tugged down her facial mask, which was soaked with sweat, and took several controlled breaths before sending a well-deserved punch into Makoto's stomach.

"One more word and I'll rip your tongue out with my bare hands," Yori threatened as she threw off her hood as well, relishing the feeling of the cool air brushing over her flushed skin.

Makoto barely bit back another laugh as he held his hands up in defeat, remaining silent to appease her. Yori walked down the hall, heading toward the baths and Makoto followed closely behind her, waiting until she disappeared behind the sliding door of the room. Yori quickly sat on the wooden stool next to the bath and listened as Makoto's footsteps faded away. Once she was sure she was alone, she carefully peeled off her black outfit, hissing as the ripped fabric rubbed past her wound. Yori tossed the tarnished suit into a smaller basin by her feet that had been filled with sudsy water, which instantly freed the fabric of the blood that coated it.

Resolving to fix it later, she quickly retrieved a small container of absorbent salts from the stand next to her. She popped the lid off and poured a generous amount of the white substance into the gash. The salts fizzed and hissed as they made contact with her torn skin, immediately absorbing the blood her body was producing. Tears sprang into Yori's eyes and she clenched her teeth together so hard she thought they would shatter, yet she did not scream like she wanted to.

She sighed shakily and hauled herself into the bathtub, turning the shower head to scalding hot. Yori scrubbed her body quickly and let her mass of coal black hair free from its tight braid, allowing it to cascade down the length of her back. Exhaustion seeped into every inch of Yori's muscles as the boiling water ran over her skin, calming her and washing away her previous agitations. She suspected that it was nearing two AM, meaning she had been gone for three hours and needed to get back very soon. The soapy water brutally stung her leg, but she ignored it to the best of her ability, waiting for the water running down the drain to clear itself of red. Once clean and free of blood, Yori turned off the faucets and wrapped herself in a dry towel, eager to stitch and bandage her leg once and for all.

Yori lit a tall candle and stuck the needle in the flame to disinfect its pointed edge before threading it. Yori grabbed the spare brush she kept in the room and bit down on the handle just before she started stitching herself. Yori was concentrating so deeply on not whimpering or passing out that she failed to hear Makoto approach and push open her door.

"That definitely looks painful."

Yori jolted, nearly skewering the good part of her leg with the needle she held. Yori turned and lobbed her hairbrush at her intruder, boiling with fury.

"Damn you, Makoto!" She seethed. Makoto stood in the now open doorway with his arms crossed, looking quite pleased with himself. His light brown hair was dark and gleaming with moisture, evidence that he had also freshly showered. His trademark smirk only infuriated her more. "What do you want?" she snapped as she turned her attention back to her leg, pleased that the stitches she made were neat and her bleeding had significantly slowed down. She poured more absorbent salts over it for good measure.

Makoto shrugged away from the doorway and let himself in, sliding the door shut behind him. He crossed the wooden floor to her and knelt down before her leg, his sharp eyes assessing her work.

"Did a good job," said Makoto, nodding. "Where'd you learn to stitch so neatly?"

Yori's jade green eyes darkened. "My mother was a very professional Medic-Nin. She taught me a lot of things."

The grin instantly faded off of Makoto's mouth. "Right," he said softly and said nothing more, knowing that the subject of Yori's parents was almost taboo to address so openly. Makoto distracted himself by taking the fresh roll of bandages from her and setting to the task of wrapping her leg.

Yori crossed her arms over her chest, too tired to care that she was so exposed to Makoto, wearing only a towel for coverage. They trusted each other mutually, the only two partners of The Black Hand that were comfortable enough to see each other's face. Even though he was a good deal older than her –he was twenty-two while she was days away from her seventeenth birthday, a five year age gap- his immaturity irked her to the point of anger, but she always let his annoying traits and comments slide because she knew that whenever she was in trouble, he'd be there to back her up. The same could be said about her, even though she'd never be caught dead admitting it aloud.

Yori was ripped out of her thoughts when Makoto tore the white bandage away from the roll and neatly tied it down against her leg. "There. All done," he said with a smile, even though it was a condescending one. Yori slapped him away, only mumbling a cryptic word of thanks, and shoved him towards the door.

"What, I can't watch you get dressed? I can close my eyes. Promise I won't peek." He waggled his thick eyebrows at her and Yori made a disgusted noise at the back of her throat.

"Get. Out."

"Your coldness breaks my heart, Yori-chan," Makoto whispered, placing an exaggerated hand over his chest. Yori rolled her eyes at his theatrics and all but threw him out into the dark hallway.

"We both know you have no heart," she rebuffed as she slammed the door shut after him.

"Hurry up and get going before dawn breaks," Makoto called into her just before sauntering away.

Yori sighed in relief, savoring in the silence of Makoto's absence, and retrieved a long, off-white robe from her stand. She shook it free from its folds and laid it before her, extending a finger to stroke the palm-sized Hyuuga House symbol embellished across the breast. Yori's expression hardened at once and she retracted her finger, knowing she could not afford to waste any more time here. She rapidly eased into the robe, letting the familiar comfort of its fabric envelop her in warmth.

Yori gathered her sword and tucked it onto her back under the robe, securing the thin leather strap over her chest. She turned to the flickering behind her candle and blew it out, letting the absolute darkness take hold of her once more.

.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

_Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story. Feel free to leave me a review telling me what you thought! Keep in mind that I reply to all reviews and will answer any question I can. Hope you read on to chapter two! _


	2. Piece Two: Hidden

**P**_i_e**c**_e_s **o**_f_ D**e**_s_t**i**_n_y

* * *

_**.**_

_**R**_

_**E**_

_**M**_

_**N**_

_**A**_

_**N**_

_**T**_

_**TWO**_

_**.**_

* * *

_Yori dashed blindly through the frozen darkness, barely able to breathe the icy air that sharply assaulted her tear-stained cheeks. Her bare feet grew numb as the snow began to fall down around her, but she didn't dare stop running; he wasn't far behind her now. She could still hear his raging footsteps and controlled breathing as relentlessly he pursued her._

_Yori's eyes filled with tears of gut-wrenching terror as he inevitably drew closer to her. She was alone now, the only one left, and it wouldn't be long before the scar-faced man's deadly blade would slice through her just as it had her parents. _

No… No…!

"_Please, help me!" Yori screamed as loud as she could force herself, her raw throat aching and burning as her raspy voice ripped through it. Her entire body screamed for rest and her lungs were parched for breath. She was only distantly aware that she was bleeding badly from a long gash in her back that she had received from the man as she ran out of her closet and fled past him. The heat of her own blood coursing out of her only brought back the images of her parent's dead bodies, sending fresh pangs of crippling devastation throughout her body._

_She was utterly alone in the darkness and not a soul was going to save her. Her mother and father couldn't save her now. She wasn't even sure she could save herself._

Please…! Someone…!

_Just then, cold, hard arms grabbed her from behind, tossing her down to the damp snow below. This time, Yori couldn't bring herself to scream. The fight was over. She was filled with morbid relief when she realized that she didn't have to run anymore. It was over._

Let death be quick,_ she prayed, clamping her eyes shut._

* * *

P_i_**e**c_e_ **T**w_o_

.

.

.

**H**i_d_**d**e_n_

* * *

**Y**o_u_ **e**n_j_**o**y _t_**h**e _c_**h**a_o_**s** y_o_**u** create ...

* * *

"Did you hear? Four Shinobi were killed last night."

"What? How scary!"

"Yeah. Apparently it was the work of that assassin again."

"Ugh, not again. How horrible."

"I know! You'd think they would have caught him by now. It's been nearly five years after all."

Yori clamped her bright emerald eyes shut as the early morning gossipers' newest story battered against her overly sensitive eardrums and pried her from her deep sleep. She groaned and rolled over, hoping the annoying women would take their chatter elsewhere, yet their high-pitched voices continued to drift to her ears. Frustrated, Yori exhaled sharply and sat up, abandoning any wishful thoughts of sleeping in any longer. Already, her head began to pound and she cursed her sharp ears for forcing her to listen to such a useless conversation. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned, pushing her exhaustion to the corners of her mind. She couldn't afford to be tired, not when she and every other servant of the Hyuuga House had morning duties that day.

Yori dragged herself from the sanctuary of her warm covers and stood, but as soon as she did so, a sharp and brutal pain blossomed through her right leg, causing her to lose her balance and tumble toward the cold floor. She caught herself on the edge of her bed just before she could make contact with the wood and looked down, only to discover that her white bandages were soaked through with fresh blood.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath as she hurriedly loped to the small bathroom in her room, eager to stop the bleeding before she made a mess of herself. Yori tore off the thick bandages and discarded them in the trash bin before she stuck her leg under the bath tap, letting cool water wash away the blood. As soon as the blood was cleared, Yori was instantly thankful that her stitches were still intact.

Before she had the chance to dress the wound with fresh bandages, her ears pricked at the sounds of light, bare footsteps crossing the wooden floors towards her door. Two refined knocks on Yori's door followed soon after and she shut off the tap, clumsily palming for the bandages she stored in the small cabinet under the sink.

"Yori-chan? Are you awake yet?" called a cheery voice from the other side, which could only belong to the one and only Tara Kitsunada, Yori's closest friend.

"Yeah, coming! Give me a sec." Yori called out as she found what she was looking for and quickly wrapped her leg. Yori tore off the wrinkled robe she had slept in and slipped into a clean servant's shift dress, grateful that is was long enough to cover most of the white bandages. Yori exited her bathroom and unlocked her door so that Tara could enter.

"Morning Yori-chan!" greeted Tara as she slid open Yori's door and energetically bounced inside. Yori grumbled something similar in return and immediately clamped her eyes shut as her tiny friend threw open the curtains, allowing bright yellow sunlight to pour in and chase out every shadow of darkness that lingered inside. Yori scowled at the burst of light that hit her directly in the face.

"What time is it?" griped Yori through grit teeth as she slowly allowed her eyes to open in order to adjust to the sudden brightness that consumed her room.

"It's six thirty. You slept much later than usual. You're so _lazy_, Yori. Maybe it's a sign you're getting old? Ah, it's so pretty out today!" the girl exclaimed in excitement as she stared out of her window into the morning's sunlight.

Tara was a petite young girl, nearly sixteen, and far too high-spirited and boisterous for a servant girl her age. She had short, flame-colored hair that bounced around her head with every lithe step she took and gleaming blue eyes that reminded Yori of a cloudless morning sky. She was honest and true to herself, one of the things Yori admired most about her, but she tended to have a rather snarky side to her personality that was hard to handle if you didn't know her very well. Tara's greatest weakness was food, surprisingly enough. Present her with a good meal and the little glutton would surely stick with you until the end.

"Old my ass, Tara-chan," Yori responded as she glared mockingly at her. "I'm a year older than you."

"I know! Two days from now, you'll be seventeen!" bubbled Tara as she smiled gleamingly, her palms pressed together in excitement. "It's so much fun to share the birthday of your best friend isn't it?"

Yori grinned warmly at her. Tara absolutely loved the fact that their birthdays fell on the same date; it was something Yori never heard the end of, not that she minded much, even though she often enjoyed telling Tara otherwise to get a rise out of her. "_Fun_ may not be the word I'd use … I was thinking of something more along the lines of _annoying_," Yori teased, but soon frowned as Tara's chipper laugh did not last as long as she had expected. Yori immediately sensed that whatever her friend was bubbling to tell her was not a lighthearted matter.

"I heard that assassin attacked the village again last night," Tara began, her pure eyes glazing over with an odd mixture of worry and intrigue.

Yori groaned. She should have known. Among all the servants in the Hyuuga House, Tara was the biggest gossip of them all, and it didn't surprise her that she had gotten ahold of this information too. She had probably been a part of that gossiping gaggle of woman that had disturbed her sleep that morning. Yori normally didn't mind the stories Tara told, since she usually received them from the nobles or of higher-ups that roamed the halls, but this time, Yori wanted to hear nothing of it.

"Oh come on, Tara-chan. You know that old rumor has been floating around since we were kids," Yori complained as she grabbed her hairbrush from her vanity and perched on the edge of her mattress, grateful that the pain shooting through her leg wasn't as brutal as it was the first time she stood, and began to tear through the tangles in her shiny raven-colored, back-length hair.

"I know, but I heard it from _Elder Hyuuga_-sama this time!" Tara insisted, plopping herself down on Yori's bed. "Four Shinobi really _were_ killed! Apparently even _Neji_-sama is reporting back from his mission early because of it."

Yori froze just as she lifted her hair into her fingers in order to start a braid. She grew very pale as she avoided Tara's eyes and tried to process the words her friend had just spoken. "It's getting that serious?" she mumbled softly, so softly that Tara barely even heard her. Yori knew she had no reason to panic. Her secret was in no danger of being found out, even if she was the only member of The Black Hand who killed those inside Konoha Village, but the mere fact that now Tara was worried about it put an odd feeling into Yori's stomach.

Tara slammed her hands down on Yori's mattress, her azure eyes wide with astonishment and shock. "Of course it's serious! People are being _killed_, Yori. People from _our_ village! And … this assassin has never killed Shinobi before... four of them, at that." Tara suddenly covered her mouth as she drew her troubled gaze downward, away from Yori. "It's just … too horrible to even think about."

Yori shook her head and sighed under her breath as she resumed her braiding regimen, struggling to get every pesky strand of hair under her control. _Not as horrible as betraying secrets to the enemy, putting everyone else's life at risk for war, _Yori added internally, her eyes darkening.

"Don't be ridiculous, Tara. They'll catch this assassin soon enough. You should worry yourself over things you have no control over."

Tara nodded at last, finally accepting Yori's words, and absentmindedly played with the frays of her sheet. "You're right. Sorry. I guess I'm just worried because even the Shinobi are stressing over this matter. I mean, I've never known Neji-sama to leave a mission early before..."

_Neji's returning…_ Yori thought with a start. Her stomach suddenly flooded with a strange tingling sensation at the thought of seeing him two days earlier than she had initially expected. Even if she did choose to avoid him, she'd see him eventually, and she feared what turmoil her body would be thrown into when she did. It troubled her to be this helpless to her own emotions toward a boy who-

"Ouch!" Yori cried as she stumbled, shocked directly out of her thoughts by the piercingly hot pain that coursed through her thigh as soon as she put the pressure of her body weight on it. Tears sprang in her eyes and Yori quickly eased all of her weight onto her left leg, hoping that she wouldn't start bleeding again.

"What? What happened?" Tara asked, her voice rising with confusion and worry. Yori controlled her facial expression and managed to direct a clumsy smile at Tara, hoping to dispel her young friend's worry.

"It's nothing. I must have stepped on something," Yori laughed, and quickly lifted the bottom of her foot as if to examine it.

Tara frowned at her apprehensively, but remained silent, for which Yori was thankful for.

"Go ahead and get going, Tara-chan," Yori said as she seated herself onto her mattress beside Tara. "Our shifts start in less than half an hour and I have to get ready. I don't want old Dog-Face to get after you again for stalling because of me."

Tara's hesitation only lasted a moment before she decided Yori was right and agilely leapt to her feet with a smile. "See you in a few, then. Hurry up before you miss breakfast," she said playfully before she slid through Yori's door. "Again!" she added before and scampering off down the hall, surely in search of food.

Yori's smile faded from her face as she slid her door closed and an all-too-familiar silence filled her room. The hustle and bustle of the servants out in the halls was nothing but a distant echo to Yori and a soft sigh escaped her lips as she turned away from it. She knew she would have been alone here when she first became a servant here five years ago if not for Tara's persistent attitude. Yori suspected it would have been easier if she had no ties with anyone, especially if something went wrong and she'd be forced to disappear. Yori was hesitant around Tara and shared absolutely nothing about her personal life with her, including her painful past. It wasn't fair to her, but Tara never asked questions so Yori never allowed herself to worry over it. Despite this, Yori constantly worried that she had let Tara become too attached to her and wondered what it would do to her if Yori broke off their friendship. This was something Yori often thought about doing, but she never went through with it, fearing that if she did, she would fall off the ledge of darkness in her mind and never work her way out of it.

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

The female sect of the servant's commons was abuzz that morning as servants of every age filtered in and out, some carrying cleaning supplies, some holding towels, and some carting off plates of steaming food. The common rooms were the servant's headquarters, and provided them with practically everything they needed that wasn't in their rooms already. That morning, it was tremendously noisy and disorganized and Yori once again found herself extremely grateful that she had been allowed to have her own room, even though most servants were housed with at least two or three per room. She could only imagine the chaos that would be wrought if she had to share a room with one of them.

Yori weaved through the throngs of the servants, bumping shoulders and elbows with more girls than she could count. At last, Yori found Tara just outside of the female commons, talking animatedly with three other servant girls around her age.

"Morning," Yori greeted cheerily and smiled, but the warmth of the action was lost when the three girls' smiles froze on their faces and their eyes widened at the sight of her.

"Mor-morning," they replied nervously in return, shooting Tara apprehensive glances.

"We'll catch you around, Tara-chan," promised the girls as they hurriedly scampered away. Yori blinked, not perturbed in the slightest. Yori shared a strained relationship with nearly every fellow servant of the Hyuuga House due to her almost inapproachable air and her blunt honesty. Most of the girls never attempted to get close to her, which Yori preferred, except for Tara, whose personality was the exact opposite of Yori's. Yori suspected that Tara received a lot of unwanted attention because of this, but, knowing Tara, none of it bothered her at all.

"Come on," Yori urged, placing her hand on Tara's small shoulder and leading her into the female commons. "Let's get inside before old Dog-Face gripes at us for loitering."

The female servant's overseer Inuka, who had been forever dubbed as old Dog-Face, stood at the farthest wall inside the commons and barked orders at everyone who tentatively passed by her. She held a list that appeared to be longer than her stout own body between her gnarled hands and peered at whatever was written on it with her dark, beady eyes. Her squinty gaze landed on Yori and Tara as they entered the bustling room and she pointed a shaky finger at them.

"Kitsunada Tara, assist with kitchen duties!"

"Gotatsu Yori, assist with cleaning the hall of the Main Branch!"

The girls nodded and accepted their duties with a respectful bow, but both groaned in unison as they turned away from the old woman and headed for the breakfast table. As soon as the smell reached Tara's nostrils, her mood instantly lightened. She grabbed a plate and sailed off, eager to fill it with as much food as it would hold. Tara quickly found an empty spot to sit at and gestured for Yori to join her, her mouth already full. Yori smiled lightly as she grabbed her own plate and scooped a small amount of steamed rice onto it. Her appetite was lacking this morning and she doubted she'd even be able to finish what she had. By the time Yori had seated herself across from Tara, she had already finished her first helping and set off to get more.

Yori shook her head in amusement, not at all surprised by her gluttonous friend's actions, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't at least slightly jealous of the way her best friend could scarf down helping after helping of food and remain as tiny and thin as ever. Yori knew that Tara's bubbling energy that radiated off of her simply burned off everything she ate. Yori, however, had to strictly control her diet in order to keep herself light and agile, with the help of strenuous exercise and training. She was used to these regulations and didn't really mind eating less than her friend, but she often wondered what it felt like to eat anything and everything she pleased without a care in the world.

The two girls quickly finished their breakfast and hurried off to gather the supplies they would need to complete the tasks they'd been assigned from the supply closets located in the back of the commons. After finding what they need, the two raced past the other servant girls and headed out into the hall, but stopped in their tracks when loud, raucous laughter and talking erupted from the far end of the hall. A horde of male servants made their way past the female commons, heading in the direction of the Main Branch, carting farming tools and supplies of their own.

Tara's face suddenly lit up as a broad smile drew across her impish face. "Sota-kun!" she cried at once and dropped her supplies, dashing toward one of the tall male servants that had stepped out of the crowd and smiled at her. Tara leapt at him, giggling like a child when he caught her with one arm and returned her sprightly embrace.

"Morning Kitsunada-chan," he replied, smiling lopsidedly and running a hand through his messy, rust colored hair.

Yori smile faded into a grimace as she watched the tall male servant converse animatedly with her small friend. Tara's infatuation was only obvious to everyone who bothered to look and, even though she would admit that he was among the most handsome of the male servants in the Hyuuga House, Yori often worried that he would break her heart and hand her the pieces. Sota was older than Yori by a good year and a half and made his presence known to every female he came across. Tara had fallen for his antics about three months ago and paid no mind to the warnings Yori had given her. Yori would kill him if he hurt her.

Sota was smiling as they talked, appearing to be completely enthralled by whatever Tara was telling him. Finally, Tara bounded back over to Yori and scooped up her supplies. "Sorry, gotta run!" she said breathily before grinning and rushing back to Sota's side. Yori watched with disapproving eyes as they headed off and disappeared around the corner.

A lanky boy no older than thirteen settled against the wall next to Yori, his arms crossed tightly and expression amused. He chuckled softly, keeping his eyes downcast, and Yori didn't bother to look up at him, although she visibly stiffened at his presence.

"Jealous, Ri-chan?" the boy asked in a raspy voice, his grin ever present.

"I don't trust him," Yori answered honestly after a moment's hesitation, her mouth hardening into a thin line.

The boy scoffed and shook his head at her reply, his dark black hair falling into his eyes. "Right. Because you're _so_ trustworthy," he drawled sarcastically and chuckled again.

Yori's stomach tightened and the hair on the back of her neck began to rise. She didn't dare look down at the boy next to her, knowing his soulless black eyes would surely bore into hers. "Go away, Hiro. I have work to do." She shrugged away from the wall and stiffly scooped up her supplies, which consisted of a bucket filled with soapy water and several dry rags. She closed her eyes and turned away from him, heading for the Main Hall, eager to get as far from him as quickly as possible. Hiro ignored her and followed closely behind, copying her steps and humming softly. Yori concentrated on snubbing him, focusing instead on keeping her shaking hands still and not spilling the contents of the wooden bucket. She nearly sighed with relief when she reached the Main Hall, finally among the presence of the other hardworking servants.

But instead of simply walking away as she had expected, Hiro jabbed her sharply between the shoulder blades with his fingers, sending vibrations of shock and terror through Yori, nearly causing her to cry out in surprise. Her eyes were wide and every muscle in her body froze as his fingers remained in place, causing the area he touched to throb with slight pain. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she struggled to release the breath she had been holding.

"Work hard, ne Ri-chan? I'll be watching."

His fingers disappeared and she swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat rush over every inch of her body. She exhaled a shaky breath, trying to regain control, and turned around to face him, but Hiro was no longer behind her; he had simply vanished.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Yori knelt down on the sopping wooden floor among many other female servants, scrubbing at the dirt with everything she had in her. Her jaw was tightly clenched and her fingers ached from holding the soapy rag so tightly. Hiro's words reverberated over and over in her head, chilling her to the bone. _Why is he watching me? _She knew it was in her best interests to ignore the boy, but after her encounter with Cross the previous night, she couldn't. Hiro the youngest of Cross's two wingmen and he had begun working here alongside Yori presumably to keep a watchful eye on her. Yori couldn't stand him the sight of him. Even as young as he was, he gave off an air of dark malevolence and Yori knew better than to cross him. She'd seen him kill before and it was something she wished she could erase from her memory.

"Oi, Gotatsu!" called the old overseer, causing Yori to flinch. "More towels are needed, get moving!"

Yori stood and nodded stiffly, wiping her wrinkled palms on her shift dress. Her leg began to throb in agony again but she ignored it and headed off toward one of the supply closets in search of clean towels. As Yori rounded the corner and reached for the closet handle, two Nobles stood a few feet away off to the right, speaking in low voices. Normally, Yori would have paid no attention to them and bowed politely only if they looked her way, but this time she froze mid-reach. The one closest to her had his back turned, but she noticed that he was dressed in fine Shinobi garments with the Hyuuga crest embezzled on it. His dark hair cascaded down the length of his back, bound in a low ponytail.

_Neji…!_ She realized with a start, her eyes growing wide and her heart thudding in rapid succession within the confines of her chest. She had nearly forgotten that Tara had informed her that he would be returning early from his mission and seeing him now, standing a few feet away from her, proved that she really was not prepared to face him. As if sensing her stare, Neji turned, his pale lavender eyes locking instantly on hers. Yori's stomach lurched and she turned away from him as quickly as she could, desperately wanting to dart in the opposite direction and never look back.

Before she could even attempt to run, another servant girl rounded the corner and stepped directly in her path, carrying to full buckets of water. Yori instinctively tried to weave out of her way, but a brutal spasm suddenly ripped through her injured leg, and before she could stop herself, she fell forward and roughly collided with the poor girl. The water pails the servant girl carried went flying, soaking them both to the bone and the two girls fell backward onto the wooden floor, limbs tangled. Yori's face crumpled with pain as her adept ears caught the horrible sound of her stitches ripping.

"Gotatsu, you idiot!" angrily seethed the servant girl as she shot a deadly glare in her direction. Yori opened her mouth to retort, but the girl was no longer looking at her. Her wide, horrified eyes were locked on something –or someone- just behind Yori. Yori was instantly filled with icy dread, remembering how close Neji and the other Noble had been standing, and she internally began to pray that they had been spared from the soapy water that covered the two girls.

"N-N-Neji-sama!" exclaimed the other girl as she quickly scrambled to her feet, her dripping hands flying up to cover her open mouth.

Yori slowly turned to look at the scene unfolding behind her, wishing she was anywhere but where she was then. Neji stood there, his violet eyes wide with shock. His arm, which had been upraised to block his alarmingly handsome face, had been soaked. His shirt as well as sections of his chestnut-colored hair had been hit with a few spots of water. The other Noble, which Yori recognized as one of his younger cousins, was snickering under his breath.

"_What_ is the meaning of this?" screeched Inuka in a voice akin to one of a rabid dog's as she sailed around the corner and took in the scene before her. Her face shifted from bright red to nearly purple as her nostrils flared with absolute anger. She locked eyes with Yori and grabbed her, roughly hauling her to her feet. She took hold of the other girl as well and forced the two of them to bow before the two Nobles. Yori closed her eyes, feeling her bandaged leg blossom with blood.

"I deeply apologize for these two, Hyuuga-sama. I will handle their punishments, I _assure_ you."

"Forgive me, Neji-sama," whimpered the shaking servant girl who appeared to be close to tears. "She knocked into me before I could get out of the way."

Yori ground her teeth together as she glared a hole into the floor, feeling like an utter fool. She forced herself to lift her head, her gaze drifting up at Neji. "Ah … sorry. Please forgive me," she whispered, wanting to run away and disappear in some dark corner, never to emerge again.

"It's fine. It's only water," Neji replied with a sigh as he wiped his face, looking only mildly appalled. Just then, several servant girls ran up to him, carting towels and crooning like love-struck schoolgirls. They lead him away from the scene, each one desperately trying to gain his attention by handing how a towel. Yori looked away.

"Gotatsu!" barked Inuka once Neji and his cousin had disappeared. "Clean this mess up! Expect two week's pay to be deducted for this. From the both of you."

The servant girl gasped in horror and turned her heated glare on Yori, her mouth contorted in anger.

"The two of you have _disgraced_ yourselves. Be grateful that Hyuuga-sama is merciful and is allowing you to keep your jobs!" Inuka continued, raving mad. "Go dry off. Afterward, you both will promptly meet me back in the commons. You'll be working with me _without pay_ for the remainder of the day and all of tomorrow," Inuka ordered with a smirk, her crooked hands placed firmly on her hips.

The two of them cringed and shared a look, glaring utter revulsion at one another. Clearly, this day did not turn out as either of them expected.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Yori was fuming with frustration and embarrassment by the time she reached the confines of her room and slammed the door shut behind her. Her tightly clenched fists were shaking with rage as she limped over to her vanity and nearly collapsed onto the stool before it, all too aware of the pain coursing through her leg.

_Damn it all to hell,_ she internally spat as she gingerly took hold of the ends of her dress and lifted it past her thigh, wincing at the sight of the blood that had blossomed over the stark-white bandage. She sighed sharply and glared at the infuriating sight of it, cursing it to the deepest pits of hell where it belonged. _Never_ in her life as a servant of the Hyuuga House had she made such a fool of herself, especially in front of Neji. This _grievance _in her leg had caused it all and she wanted nothing more than for it to vanish and leave her in peace, even though she knew, annoyingly, that it would be quite a while before it would even begin to heal.

Yori carefully grasped the end of the soiled bandage, gritting her teeth in irritation. Just as she began to tug on it, her ears pricked at unmistakable sound of her bedroom door shutting behind her. The low sound of metal brushing across fabric followed soon after and Yori immediately sensed imminent danger. She grabbed her hairbrush, the closest object to her, and pivoted in her seat, barely managing to deflect a small dagger with it as it sailed for the back of her head. The blade clanged sharply against the back of her hairbrush and lodged itself in the wood of her vanity mirror, having narrowly missed its target.

Hiro lingered in her doorway, his face dark as a malicious grin drew across it. Yori shuddered, feeling her skin prickle with goose bumps as they raced across every inch of her skin. She didn't have the slightest clue as to why she couldn't detect his entrance. She sensed _everyone _except for this boy. It was almost like he was a ghost with the way he was able to sneak up on her.

"It seems that Lady Kihara has finally blundered," whispered Hiro as he chuckled softly, taking carefully measured steps toward her.

Yori's eyes never left him as she pried the sharp blade out of her vanity, a red hot flash of anger suddenly rushing through her. "Do not _ever_ address me by that name again if you wish to see another sunrise," she threatened, her hands quivering with rage and terror.

Hiro only smiled and nodded, appearing to be quite amused by the emotions pouring out of her. "Right, right, fine. Took quite a nasty spill back there, didn't you? Everyone's talking about it." Hiro stood before her, his blank, pitch-black eyes even with hers. "How ungraceful of you," he muttered, reaching forward to pry his blade from her hand, using it to promptly slice through the bandage on her thigh, revealing the bloody mess underneath it.

Yori struggled to control her shaky breathing as he leered at her gash, seeming to be almost entranced by the blood coating her skin.

"What do you want?" Yori managed to whisper, feeling uncomfortable and haunted by his closeness.

Hiro leaned forward into her ear, his hand slamming down on her wounded thigh. Yori whimpered in agony as his fingers began to dig into her flesh, feeling as if white hot fire was being pumped into her skin. "Cross-sama will be _ve_ry disappointed to hear that you've begun to stand out, Ri-chan. I'd tread cautiously from now on, if I were you."

Yori swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat. Her body began to shake against her will, causing Hiro to chuckle again. His coal-black eyes locked on hers as he lifted his now-bloody fingers to his mouth to noisily lick them clean, grinning evilly as he did so. With his free hand, he retrieved a small, folded piece of paper from his pants pocket and tossed it into her lap.

"See ya!" he called cheerfully and bounded out of her room, silently pulling the door closed behind him.

Several long moments passed before Yori finally forced her body to move. With shaking hands, she unfolded the paper he had given her, revealing the name of her newly assigned victim and his location. As always, the name was written in blood.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

_Thank you for tuning in to the second chapter of Pieces of Destiny! Feel free to leave me a review telling me what you thought! Keep in mind that I reply to all reviews and will answer any question I can. Please keep your eye open for chapter three!_


	3. Piece Three: Conflicted

**P**_i_e**c**_e_s **o**_f_ D**e**_s_t**i**_n_y

* * *

**.**

**R**

**E**

**M**

**N**

**A**

**N**

**T**

**THREE**

**.**

* * *

_ With her ashen face nearly buried in the snow, Yori forced herself to keep her eyes closed, knowing the sweet blow of death would greet her soon enough, and looking upon the scar-faced man as he drew his sword to kill her would do nothing but prolong the inevitable. She whimpered softly, burying her numb and shaking hands into her ratted hair, yet the pain she so fervently anticipated did not come. Instead, the sharp noise of metal deflecting metal rang through her ears and her eyes instantly snapped open, wide and terrified as she took in the scene before her. Another man, equal in height to the scarred man, stood with his back to her, a long and familiar katana raised defensively before him, protecting her. The scar-faced man stood just a few feet from him with his own bloodied sword held unsteadily against his opponent's, his face drawn in utter fury._

_ "Yori, stay back," resolutely ordered the man who had come to her aid, and her ears piqued with instant recognition._

Hizashi-san,_ Yori realized with a start, taking a short, gasping breath as her eyes locked on the beautiful sword held within his determined grasp; a sword of her father's creation. Yori remembered watching her father as he crafted that katana for him, Hizashi Hyuuga, the man who had become his closest friend and ally. Yori, completely frozen, looked up at Hizashi as he stood protectively before her, and couldn't help wondering why he didn't come before that man had a chance to murder her parents, when she'd needed him most. He, along with the rest of the Noble Hyuuga Clan, had given their solemn oath to protect the Kihara's, but as Yori lay defenseless in the bitterly cold snow, entirely alone, she knew he had failed them all._

_"I will have her, I promise you. Even _you_ cannot stop me," seethed the scar-faced man in a guttural tone, his blood-encrusted katana pointed directly at Hizashi's neck. Just before the man had the chance to attack and prove his words, they were instantly surrounded by no less than two dozen armed men, trained Konoha Shinobi descended from the Hyuuga bloodline. Their light violet eyes shone dangerously in the moonlight as they lifted their weapons toward the scarred man, drastically outmatching his strength. The man's emotionless black eyes locked on Yori as he stepped backward, his narrowed gaze only promising death and destruction. He lingered for a moment, his gaze never leaving Yori's frightened face, before the edges of his body seemed to blur like flames taking hold of an old picture. _

_"You will never be safe from me, child," he whispered as his body began to lose its form. "They cannot protect you forever."_

_Yori clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as the Shinobi drew forward to attack, but the scar-faced man was gone, a plume of black, smoke-like fog lingering in his stead. _

_"Find him! Bring him back _alive_!" Hizashi ordered as he angrily thrust his katana back into its sheath. The Shinobi all nodded silently before fanning out into the darkness, not making a single sound as they went. Hizashi turned and knelt next to Yori's shaking form, instantly taking notice to the blood spreading across her back._

_"We'll get you help, don't worry."_

_Yori finally met Hizashi's eyes as the pain of her injury ate at her, despite how numb her body had grown due to the cold. She felt too hollow and exposed, like her body had been brutally ripped open from inside out. She forced herself to swallow hard as her gaze hardened into a glare, her vision beginning to lose focus. "Y-you let them die…" Heavy tears poured down Yori's cheeks as she tipped forward only to be caught by Hizashi's strong hands. Just as the heavy blackness crept up on her, she became vaguely aware that they were no longer alone; Hizashi's twin brother, Hiashi, had appeared beside them, his face drawn in serious worry as he met his brother's eyes._

_"His trail vanished. There's no sign of him," Hiashi grimly informed his brother after a long moment of silence. He glanced down at Yori, his face softening with concern and deep sadness. "I'm sorry, Yori. I promise you, we _will_ find this man. These sins should not go unpunished."_

_Yori's head swam as she desperately clutched to Hizashi's robe, that hollow, black feeling creeping through her frozen veins. She wanted nothing more than to scream as loud as she could, yet her body remained motionless, as if the loss of her parents had triggered it to shut down completely. She looked up, noticing Hyuuga Neji, Hizashi's only son, and his calm, settling eyes just before her stationary body had mercy on her at last and let the blackness overtake her._

**.**

**.**

**.**

* * *

P_i_**e**c_e_ **T**h_r_**e**e

.

.

.

_C_**o**n_f_**l**i_c_**t**e_d_

* * *

**L**e_f_**t **a_l_**o**n_e_** w**i_t_**h **o_n_**l**y _r_**e**f_l_**e**c_t_**i**o_n_**s **o_f_** t**h_e_ **_memory _…**

* * *

**.**

**.**

**.**

Yori treaded carefully through the damp, dark streets of Konoha Village, doing her best not to irritate her throbbing leg any further as she made her way back towards The Black Hand's headquarters. Her shadowed form was nearly impossible to spot, cloaked well in the pitch black darkness of the night, yet Makoto still managed to notice her, and he smirked to himself as he fell in line next to her.

"I didn't think you'd be out here so late, what with your… _handicap_ and all," Makoto teased in a gruff voice, referring to her slight limp that she had failed to hide.

Yori grimaced and tugged off her hood, glaring at her partner with as much malice as she could manage, her jade green eyes nearly glowing in the dull light of the street lamps. "Watch yourself, Mako. I'm in no mood to play your games."

"Ah, still pissed that you're on baby duty, hm?"

Yori ignored him and strode on ahead, glowering to herself as she set her jaw in frustration. It had only been little over four days since she sustained the injury on her leg and Cross had already restricted her from any missions involving hand-to-hand combat, instead ordering her to assist with the training of The Black Hand's newest female recruit, Ehna. As far as Yori was concerned, the petite, scared little fourteen year old girl was not assassin material; she was weak and unstable, and possessed no driving grudge to kill anyone or avenge anything. She couldn't fathom why Cross would recruit such an unfit child to become an assassin, much less understand why he would put her under Yori's wing, of all people.

"Where is she?" Yori asked plainly, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the dark streets ahead of her, focusing on the empty spot where the two had agreed to meet at this time.

Makoto shrugged, yawning to himself as if he was beyond bored to be in her company. "Beats me. She's your responsibility, not mine."

Yori scoffed in aggravation as she rolled her eyes at him, but then suddenly stopped dead in her tracks as a strange, muffled noise met her keen ears. Her head shot up and she turned, facing the direction the sound had come from, her muscles tight as her instincts prepared her body to leap into battle at any second if need be.

"What is it?" Makoto whispered as he scanned the area, perhaps searching for some unseen enemy, his hand reaching for one of the twin blades strapped to his back.

"Shh!" Yori hissed, listening hard, waiting for that sound to make itself known again as her heart pounded in her ears. The stifled noise met Yori's ears once more, clearer this time, and she instantly recognized it as a female's soft scream, being quieted by a hand. Yori bolted forward without hesitation, her hand grasping the hilt of her sword, praying to god that the scream did not belong to Ehna; Cross would have her head delivered to him on a silver platter if anything happened to that girl while under Yori's guide. She raced in the direction of the sound, heading toward an old alleyway, and stopped just before dashing around the corner. Yori halted her breathing, her ears straining as she listened, and quickly peered into the alleyway.

Just as Yori had feared, Ehna stood with her back against the wall, another man pressed against her with his hand placed firmly over her mouth. Her face was drawn in utter terror and helplessness as the man whispered something in her ear, causing her to flinch away in disgust, her struggles rendered useless by his iron grip. Yori's eyes tightened as anger boiled inside of her, recognizing his messy silver hair and tall stature, knowing instantly that he was the eldest of Cross's two wingmen, the one who worked alongside Hiro.

_Zan..! That dirty bastard..! _Yori's skin began to crawl as she clenched her jaw and bolted forward at once. Making not a sound, she grabbed him from behind, placing the dangerously sharp tip of a long dagger on the side of his neck. Ehna gasped softly, her wide brown eyes raking over Yori in shock.

"K-Kihara-san!"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do it..!" Yori hissed as she focused her attention on Zan, allowing the point to dig into his skin. Zan didn't even flinch as a small droplet of blood rolled down his neck, but instead laughed as if he were enjoying himself, sending shivers of disgust down Yori's spine.

"Come to join the party, eh Yori? I was merely showing little Ehna here a good time..!" As he spoke, his hand trailed down Ehna's waist, grinning as he did so. Ehna whimpered softly, her limbs shaking as she clamped her eyes shut and turned her face away from him. Yori grabbed his hand and yanked him away from her and brutally slammed him back against the cold brick wall, crushing the side of her blade against his throat, rage burning in her eyes. With Zan in her grasp, she turned her gaze to Ehna, furious.

"Get out of here..! I'll deal with you _later_," she spat, pressing down harder on the knife, knowing she only had to reposition it only slightly to end his life. Ehna nodded shakily and ran off without saying another word, her steps quiet and calculated as the shadows of the night swallowed her whole.

"Jealous, Yori-chan..?" chuckled Zan, a sick grin plastered onto his pale face.

"Shut up!" she ordered in a dark voice, keeping her gaze level to his soulless black eyes. "You disgust me..! We're meant to keep the streets _clear_ of people like you. Why Cross-Sama keeps you around is a mystery to me..!"

"Cross-Sama has a reason for everything he does, Yori-chan. Surely, you know that." His lecherous sneer only widened as he spoke, his coal eyes remaining dull despite the illuminating moonlight above them. Yori clenched her teeth and shoved away from him, retracting her long blade despite how much she wanted to use it to end his miserable life.

"Stay the hell away from the girl. If you so much as _think_ about touching her again, I won't hesitate to kill you..!" Yori turned on her heel and furiously retraced her steps, heading in the direction Ehna had run to. She didn't look at Makoto as she passed him, but instead tossed him her long knife.

"Make sure Zan gets back to headquarters. If I see him around again tonight, he's a dead man. Understood?"

Makoto accepted her words with a dull smirk as he turned toward the alleyway from which she had come. "Oh, you won't be seeing him again tonight. I'll make sure of that."

Yori sighed softly and paused to look over her shoulder at her smug-looking partner. "Make sure he gets back in _one piece_," she specified through clenched teeth, as much as it burned her to say it.

"He'll live," sighed Makoto sarcastically as he headed down the alley, leaving Yori alone to deal with her own problem.

Yori pulled her hood back up over her head, casting dark shadows over her already masked face, and allowed her ears to lead her to Ehna. The girl wasn't hard to find, and Yori sighed in frustration as she reached her. Ehna sat at the corner of a closed market, her knees pulled to her chest as she took several gasping breaths, sobbing like a child.

"Get up," commanded Yori, her voice low and direct. Ehna's hood hung loose around her shoulders and her facial mask was off, strict violations of Cross's rules that were easily punishable by death. Yori lowered her eyes as she stepped toward her, removing her black glove from her hand.

"K-Kihara-san…," Ehna began weakly as she gazed up at her through the long, bronze bangs that hung in her face, her eyes red and bloodshot. Fear had trickled into her voice as she wiped her red nose, knowing Yori was going to reprimand her somehow.

"I said _get up_!" Yori repeated, louder this time. Ehna scrambled to her feet and stood before Yori, wiping her face dry the best she could. Yori held her breath and closed her eyes before sending her ungloved hand hard across the girl's face, the sharp noise of the slap echoing throughout the empty streets. Ehna stumbled, but didn't fall or cry out in pain like Yori had anticipated. She took a single, shaky breath and righted herself, facing Yori with darkened eyes, utterly silent.

"Ehna Shunichi…," Yori began in a whispered tone, her face blank and emotionless as she replaced her glove. "Do you have a wish to die?"

"I… no! Of course I don't-!"

"Don't speak so informally to me, recruit!" snapped Yori at once, frowning as Ehna flinched.

"No, Kihara-san. I don't," replied Ehna softly, gazing at the snow-covered ground beneath her freezing feet.

Yori reached forward and yanked the dark hood back over the young girl's head. "Good. Then you will follow the orders I give you, understood?"

"Yes, Kihara-san.."

"Never, under any circumstance, will you take your hood or mask off again while outside of headquarters, am I clear?

Ehna nodded dejectedly and slid her facial mask back on, her shoulders slumping inwardly.

"And next time someone tries to force themselves on you, protect yourself and _fight_, even if it's hopeless!"

Ehna's deep brown eyes widened as Yori spoke, looking up at her with mild confusion. "But… Kihara-san…"

"You will _fight_, Ehna. If you wish to survive in this world, then you must fight for your life no matter what."

Ehna nodded solemnly, strands of her light-colored hair falling into her eyes. "I... I will!"

Yori smirked, grateful that the girl had actually bothered to listen to her spiel. Only a few years ago, she had been the scared, defenseless child in her place, being scolded by Makoto. Grinning softly as she remembered, Yori turned away, casting herself out of the illumination of the street lamps. "Don't disappoint me. Now keep up! You have a lot to learn."

**_._**

**_._**

**_._**

Yori stood frozen before the large, wooden doors of the Hyuuga conference room, her calloused and wrinkled hands balled into tight fists at her sides. She forced herself to breathe, trying to calm her racing heart as the low-ranking servant girl who led her here pushed the doors open for her, expecting her to enter. Yori nodded respectfully at her and stepped inside the lavish room, trying to even her breathing as the heavy mahogany doors slammed closed behind her. She didn't have a clue as to why she had been summoned there and the fear of the unknown made Yori want nothing more than to flee.

Hiashi, the leader of the entire Hyuuga clan, sat before a large table at the head of the room, Neji standing diligently at his side. The two appeared to be engrossed in the study of some of many scrolls layered across the desk and hadn't noticed her entrance. Her throat was utterly dry as she peered up at them, two of the strongest people in the entire village, unable to keep herself from wondering if the reason she had been called there was because the man who killed her family had finally been found.

"Hiashi-sama, Neji-sama…," Yori whispered, keeping with the formalities as she bowed her head towards the floor, unable to stand the silence lingering in the room any longer.

Neji was the first to notice her. His serious lavender eyes immediately sought hers and she forced herself not to look at him, cursing internally as she focused on the frays of the extravagant carpet instead.

Hiashi sighed wearily as he finally broke his attention away from the scrolls, waving his hand dismissively before him. "Your formalities are not needed here, Lady Kihara. We shall speak to each other as equals in this room. I assure you, it's safe."

Yori scoffed under her breath and righted herself, raising her chin at them in slight defiance. "Don't address me as my mother's title. I am her daughter and will remain as such, even if she is gone. Now what is this about?" Yori's eyes reflected the slight anger that boiled within her, her jaw set firmly as she stared at them, waiting almost impatiently for them to answer her.

Hiashi took a soft breath as he leveled his soft gaze down at her, not affected in the slightest by her brash tone. "Several buyers have contacted me this month, expressing interest in purchasing your previous estate. Since that house is in your name alone, I cannot interfere without your say in the matter."

Yori's entire body instantly stiffened as soon as the words left his mouth, her serious expression quickly morphing into one of anger. "They shall _not_ have it! That house is the only thing I have left of my parents. Everything I earn goes into restoring that house to its former glory, as it was before their murder." Yori took a short breath, willing herself to calm down; her rage would solve nothing here.

Hiashi's eyes darkened sadly as he nodded at her words, turning his gaze back down to his desk, appearing as if her were lost in an old memory. "Yori-san, if you wish to, you are free to move back into your home. I guarantee that you will remain under our protection."

Neji nodded once at this, his arms crossed firmly over his chest as he peered at her. Yori ignored him and stepped coldly toward Hiashi's desk, her eyes reflecting the darkness of the old grudge she bore against the Hyuuga's. Yori's gleaming eyes met Hiashi's as she leaned forward and pressed both hands flat on his desk surface, her face set in harsh resentment. "With all due respect, Hiashi-san, I'd prefer not to live in the house where I watched my parents be slaughtered before me. And as grateful as I am for it, they were under _your protection _when their murderer slipped under your nose. So I'd rather remain hidden here with my fake name and my fake life until he is caught. That is, if you're even_ looking _for him."

Before Hiashi or Neji could process her words and come up with an acceptable reply, Yori had already turned briskly on her heel, her braid flicking out behind her as she stormed out of the room, leaving only silence of her sudden absence behind.

**_._**

**_._**

**_._**

Yori couldn't be bothered to return to the duties the old overseer Inuka had assigned her; she didn't even return to the quiet solace her room surely provided. Instead, with her steps fueled with determination, her limbs quivering with anger and frustration, she continued outside. Headed toward the Hyuuga Gates, she instinctively avoided the patrolling guards and slipped quietly through the hidden hole she had made in it several years ago. Her stitched leg didn't bother her as much, and for that she was grateful, since she immediately broke into a heated run as soon as the Gates were out of her sights, lost in the cover of the trees behind her. Each driving footstep was nearly foreign to her, since she had not travelled this path since she last fled from it on that bloody night five years ago. She never lost her way; her feet took her exactly where she knew they would, yet each step she took drove the unwanted memory of that night further into her consciousness.

Before she could grow to regret the impulsive decision that led her back to the place she vowed never to enter again, she was already stepping onto the fresh grass of her former property, gazing up at the large, empty house that stood upon it. Her eyes traced the once-welcoming panes of the windows, the soft gray colors of the walls of the exterior; all of it was just as she had left it, just as her memory had pictured. Despite how inviting her old home suddenly appeared, her mind's eye had already tainted it with old memories of blood and terror, or screams that had long haunted her in her sleep. Yori's hands violently began to shake as her breathing quickened, yet she dared not go back now. She pushed herself forward until her feet found the freshly painted white steps of her porch, her worn hands seeking support on the narrow banister.

She could hear nothing but the sound of her own raspy breaths as she reached for the copper door handle, despite knowing that the caretakers would not have dared to leave it unlocked. Just as her quivering hand took hold of the cold metal handle, the burning memory of the scar-faced man raising his sword above her head flashed through her mind, her mother's pained voice following soon after.

_'Run, Yori…!'_

Yori released the handle as if it were made of scalding metal and rapidly turned away from the door, her stomach churning with gut-wrenching terror and sickness as the memories continued to assault her, leaving her breathless terrified once more. Nearly blinded by the emotions that coursed through her body, she headed for the porch, but missed the first step entirely. The banister was the only thing that kept her from colliding painfully with the ground and she desperately clung to it, her clammy hand cupped over her mouth as she retched. She took several uneven breaths as she tried to fight off the bloodstained memories that insisted on returning, cursing herself for coming back to this place so irrationally.

She lifted her head, her vision clearing as her heartbeat slowed, and realized at once that she was no longer alone. Neji stood at the edge of her yard, his arms crossed as he silently took in the dreadful sight of her before him. She forced herself to clamber down the remaining stairs, her feet numb as she crept closer to him, unable to believe that he had actually bothered to follow her.

"N-Neji…," Yori whispered almost inaudibly, unable to stop herself. She cleared her throat, her ears ringing, and narrowed her eyes at him, her hands still shaking. "How long-," she croaked, her voice horse and cracking. She cleared her throat before attempting to speak again, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at him, worried that he had seen what had just transpired. "How long have you been standing there?"

His calm and calculated expression didn't change as he took a cautious step towards her. "Long enough."

The composure in his voice was nearly enough to send Yori back into another fit of terror, similarly to the way it had in the past. She couldn't stand it. He seemed to look right through her, examining and picking her apart detail by microscopic detail without so much as batting an eye. She straightened her posture at once, feeling far too uncomfortable and exposed to him for her liking. "Why did you come after me?" she demanded, although the effect was lost since her voice had lost its power due to her emotional outbreak.

Neji's mauve eyes flashed darkly as he looked at her, clearly not pleased in the slightest. "You were reckless to run off here on your own. You _know_ you are forbidden to leave the grounds without an escort under _any_ circumstances."

His words were enough to sober her and she scoffed, sneering in irritation as she sent an icy glare in his direction. "I don't need a Hyuuga's _worthless_ protection," she seethed as she roughly brushed past him, her shoulder knocking into his, causing him to sigh sharply in frustration. Mamoru's hand suddenly shot out and caught her by the upper arm, preventing her from taking another step forward. His stare leveled on her and she clamped her eyes shut, willing herself not to look at him.

"I know you're still bitter and angry, Yori-"

"Don't speak to me as if you understand what I feel, Neji!" she yelled suddenly as she tore away from his iron-like grip, pivoting to stare him down as her face contorted wildly with heated fury. "You failed me. All of you failed me when I needed you the most. My parents are _dead_ because they tried to protect me. But _you_ …" she took a breath, the pent up emotion she had kept buried for so long finally rearing its ugly head. "You all let their killer slip away…! I wouldn't be here, hiding like a coward, always fearing for my life, if you Hyuuga's had only kept your vows!"

His calm expression didn't even budge as she vented at the top of her lungs, which only infuriated her further. She forced breath into her aching lungs, stepping away from him. "The sight of you makes me sick." She shook her head and walked past him, eager to get as far away from him and that damned house as possible.

"You forget that he murdered my father as well, Yori."

His words were so direct, so sudden, that she froze in her path, shocked to the core that he had actually spoken back to her. She turned and faced him yet again, her breath catching in her throat as he walked closer to her, his analytical eyes finally locking on hers.

"I have not forgotten," she whispered plainly, wishing she possessed the strength to tear herself away from him, remembering only the pain that had reflected in his eyes all those years ago. "There's nothing left for me, Neji-kun. Everything's changed."

This time, he didn't reach out to stop her as she quickly headed away from him; his eyes, which had so fervently sought hers a moment ago, didn't follow after her as she went. Instead, he gazed up at the empty house before him, the house that had birthed her and ended her in such a short amount of time, knowing that she would never find solace as long as that broken piece of her remained trapped like a ghost within its walls.

_**.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_


End file.
